Harder Than You Know
by Black Lighted Clouds
Summary: Vlad and Joss's point of views on their secret love for one another and the problems that being on opposite ends of a centuries old war has on it.


**A/N: Inspired by the song "Harder Than You Know" by Escape the Fate. Note: Vlad's is just before the beginning of Eleventh Grade Burns, Joss is somewhere inbetween their in-school suspension and the fight in the cemetery in the same book.**

_Pain. It burned in his chest, his blood falling off the tip of the wood in heavy droplets, splashing onto the grass below. The feeling in the rest of his body began to disappear and he was fading, fading fast. Even the pain began to dim as the ground slid out from under his feet and he was falling, falling . . ._

_"For you, Cecile."_

Vlad Tod woke with a sharp gasp, a hand jumping to his chest. There was no hunk of wood poking through, no hole in his chest. Just in his heart.

_'Joss . . .'_

Slouching, Vlad ran a hand through his sweaty bangs, letting it rest over his eyes. He'd spent all his tears on his former friend and now just a lonely emptiness remained. He missed all the hours they spent together, laughing, goofing off, without a care in the world. Henry would always be Vlad's best friend, but Joss was different. Joss was special.

Joss was his love.

Vlad flung the confining blankets off of his legs and exited his room as quietly as he could; he didn't want to deal with Nelly fussing over him at the moment. Flicking on the light, he closed the bathroom door and went to the sink, splashing cold water on his face and the back of his neck. When he looked up again, he winced at his reflection, at the huge dark smudges under his eyes and the ghastly white quality of his skin, paler than ever before. His mind wandered once more to the slayer, to his golden skin and finely muscled body . . .

Groaning, Vlad rested his forehead on the bathroom mirror, trying to resist the urge to ram his skull into the glass and shatter it. That would be difficult to explain.

'_There was no chance when he was your friend and even less than no chance now! Get a hold of yourself!_' Vlad screamed at himself mentally.

It had been so hard, all those afternoons alone, stopping himself from staring every time Joss smiled or the light caught his hair and made it shine, forcing himself not to shiver at those innocent touches or the accidental brush of the skin of their hands when they shifted position. And when the dreams came . . .

All the blood rushed to Vlad's pallid cheeks as the memory of waking up on a night like this, not from a horrible nightmare, but a wonderful fantasy, his legs sticky and the blankets clinging for an entirely different reason, the strangest sensations running through his body. And he'd loved it.

It'd been hard, trying to convince everyone, Joss, Henry, even himself, that the reason he'd been so mad about the dance was that Meredith was going with someone else, but the honest reason was because _Joss_ had been going with her. Not only that, but hadn't he told Joss the same lie he told everyone else, that he'd liked Meredith? So how could Joss just ignore his (fake) feelings like that? That had hurt, so much. Did he not care? Or was it more than that . . . did he see through the lie? Did he know who it was that Vlad truly loved? He hardly dare cherish the hope.

He had wanted to jump into Joss's mind, see if there was any chance of it being requited, if even the slightest bit of mutual attraction had run through Joss the way it had Vlad – but he hadn't. He'd been too afraid, afraid of what he'd do if Joss felt the same. And even more so of how he'd feel if he didn't. With a bitter little smile, Vlad dabbed his face dry with the towel on the hook before leaving the bathroom, thinking, _'Well, there's no way it'll happen _now_._'

With the familiar ache in his chest, the half-vampire got back into bed, resigned to another night's restless sleep. He wanted Joss back, so, _so_ badly. But more than that, he wanted _his_ Joss back. The Joss that was lost to him forever.

XXXXX

Why couldn't it be the way it was?

Back before he knew Vlad was a vampire? Before he told Vlad that he was a slayer? Joss wanted that more than anything in the world, as much as he wanted his sister back. He wanted Vlad.

Joss stared at his bedroom wall, sitting on his bed with his knees drawn up to his chest. Another letter from the slayer society; they wanted more information. What else could Joss tell them? That he didn't want to kill Vlad? That he was in love with a vampire? Joss snorted internally. That would go down beautifully.

He knew his duty. Rid the world of their kind, for the good of humanity, for Cecile. But . . . it was so hard. Joss's lips curled up in a snarl of self-loathing as he lashed out at the wall his bed was rested against in anger. All he achieved was a busted knuckle, but he was too emotional at the moment to feel the pain.

He was angry at himself for being so weak, he was angry at whatever deity is was that dicided to toy with his life in such a cruel way, and he loved. He wanted so much to be with Vlad, it hurt. The first day of school when he'd been waiting outside of the older vampire teacher's (Joss almost laughed at the irony) classroom, ready to learn more about his species when Vlad had walked over. He'd fixed his face in an expression of disdain and arrogance, smirking at his enemy as he recalled the mantra of the Slayer Society. He was itching for a fight, daring Vlad to try anything.

And then their eyes met and Joss's heart broke. Vlad's beautiful dark eyes had been so sad, so lonely, so hopeful, as if he were beseeching Joss to reconsider, to be his friend again. And suddenly Joss wanted nothing more than that. He felt his smirk slipping away like rain off a roof and he had to turn away. But it was that memory of a later day, during their in-school suspension, that really seared Joss's insides.

He knew he should have sat next to the others, or even on the floor if need be, but he when he'd seen Vlad there all by himself, looking so – vulnerable, Joss was driven by an indistinguishable impulse to be near him. Such a thought enraged him, so, of course, he took it out on Vlad.

_"You're a monster."_

The words hurt, but not as much as the fear in Vlad's eyes as he recoiled from Joss. It made him feel sick to his stomach.

Joss threw himself backwards to lie down properly on his bed, his hands clutching at his face, to take out his repressed anger on himself and claw it off or to fight back tears he didn't know. He didn't know anything; nothing was the way it was meant to be!

Joss, holding back a sob, lifted the blankets up and tucking himself in, desperately wishing for a reprieve from the restless, dream-fueled sleep he'd been subsisting on. He wondered idly what was worse, the ones with blood, that ended in his or Vlad's death, full of hatred? Or the ones full of love? It didn't really matter, they both left him in agony.

'_Oh, Vlad . . . not loving you is harder than you know._'


End file.
